Flower Power
by The Xylia
Summary: The story of a mutant who is anti-mutant herself, told from her POV and her best friend’s. Chap. 4: Kelly is offered to join an anti-mutant team.
1. About Me: Kelly

**Title: **Flower Power

**Author: **The Xylia

**Genre: **Action/Adventure/Drama

**Rating: **PG for mild action/violence and overall dark mood of piece (though probably no worse than X2)

**Description: **The story of a mutant who is anti-mutant herself, told from her POV and her best friend's.

**Universe/time:** Set two weeks after X2 in the movie universe

**Spoilers: **From X-Men 1, X2, and a bit from the comics (but nothing big there)

**Disclaimer:** The idea of X-Men and mutants all belong to Marvel comics, the creators of the X-Men comics, the people that made the movies, and anyone else officially involved with X-Men. I am not making any money from this. However, this story-line, Kelly, Sam, their families, and their friends from their school are mine; please don't use/steal them or main details or ideas from this story.

**Other author's notes:** As said above, please don't steal anything from this. I'm trying very hard to make everything about this completely original (particularly Kelly's powers); please help me keep it that way by not copying.

Telepathy is in _italics_.

I would appreciate correction of any wrong details.

* * *

Dear diary – wait, am I allowed to start that way if I'm not actually writing this down? I'd _like_ to – write it down, I mean – but what if that little terror that calls herself my sister gets a hold of my diary? Just yesterday she ransacked my room looking for lipstick. It literally took me hours – ow! Bad train of thought. Um…This gorgeous finch sat on the tree outside my window for a whole hour yesterday, practically posing for me while I sketched him. Anyway, I don't want anyone to read this, not even my best friend Sam (short for Samantha), so I'm just going to pretend I'm writing this down.

Today Mom dragged me to a psychologist. She said I've been acting withdrawn lately. The psychologist actually tried to make me explode – and he's supposed to be good? I just barely held my temper. He told Mom that I have anger issues because I bottle up my anger. No kidding. He would too, if he was in my shoes! Oww. I'm going to color my sketch of the finch tomorrow after school.

I guess I should back up. When I get angry – or frustrated, or any other negative emotion – it actually hurts me. As in, physically. See, my flower close up. The do anyways at night, and they open back up in the morning (if they didn't close, I'd probably bruise or even squish them while I slept, which would be painful), but they don't like closing because of my emotions. When they do, it hurts, the tighter they close the more so. Should I back up further? This is sort of stupid, really, since I already know this, but…

I'm a mutant. At least, I suppose I am. I can't imagine what else I could be. I mean, I have green hair with flowers literally growing in it! Luckily, my hair, at least, absorbs dye, even if the flowers don't. When my hair first turned green and the flowers first came in, my parents were furious. They thought I'd dyed my hair like I'd been bugging them about. But who in their right mind would _want_ to dye their hair forest green? Definitely not me.

That morning, a month ago, I woke up as usual and was going to go downstairs, also as usual, but I felt little hard things in my hair. I tried to brush them out, with no luck. Instead, I could feel them start to expand, almost like flowers blooming. In fact, that's what it felt like. I would have thought my sister had superglued plastic flowers or something to my hair, and managed to make them inflate or something, but I could actually feel the flowers. Not as in I could feel them pressed against my scalp, but I could actually _feel_ them! When I touched the petal of one, I could feel my finger pressing against that petal. And when I pulled that petal off, trying to get it out of my hair, I almost screamed. Imagine pulling a toe off; that's what it felt like. (Not that I've ever pulled a toe off, but that must be a pretty good comparison.) I could feel something cool and sticky in my fingers and ran to the bathroom, tears of pain streaming down my face. The rest of the flowers were hurting, too, not just the one that the petal had been attached to.

Looking in the bathroom mirror, I saw that I was actually bleeding from where the petal had been connected. But I was bleeding a milking white liquid, like the "juice" of some plants. I don't know what I was thinking, but I tasted it, and it was sweet.

Then I began to take in the rest of my appearance. I must have fainted. I remember – I don't think I've forgotten a single detail of that morning while I was in the bathroom – waking up on the bathroom floor with a little bump on my head. My head…I had, and still have, eleven flowers in hair that turned green and thick, each strand as thick as ten normal ones. Then my mom was yelling for me to get up. I had to idea what to do – would you? I could barely believe what was going on. The night before, my hair had been of normal thickness and black, devoid of any objects whatsoever.

After a bout of hysterics, I decided to act as normally as possible for now. It was sort of automatic, almost a mental shutdown. I was no longer panicking, but I couldn't cope with this thing, so I just did what came naturally. Like I said before, my parents were furious about my hair, but the idea that it was natural didn't even occur to them.

Most of the rest of the day is a blur. I remember Sam asking me if I was okay; she said I was acting weird. Practically all of the teachers thought I was acting spacey. (I used to be not quite, but almost, a model student. I still am to some extent, but school just isn't that important to me anymore.) But the only part I can really remember during school is, as I flared up at people (I was extremely sensitive right then), or whenever panic started to take over again, my flowers closed some and they hurt. Now I was getting worried. During lunch break I locked myself in a bathroom stall. I couldn't understand why they were hurting. The petal had actually grown back before I left home, and it wasn't just that flower, anyway. They had hurt like heck in my bathroom at home, but when I had sort of gone into denial I had just ignored it, like it would go away. They had been hurting just a little the whole day, but now it was increasing. I started to panic again, and they closed, hurting considerably more and turning brown, like they had at home. When I shoved down the panic, they opened some and hurt less, and the colors turned more vibrant and less brown. Testing, I thought of the exam I had aced yesterday. The flowers responded to this happy thought by opening further, and I actually felt euphoria bordering giddiness.

No joke. I still have eleven flowers, attached to "vines" that are actually my hair, which respond to my emotions. A positive emotion will cause them to open and send me the happiest feeling ever, but a negative emotion will make them close and hurt. Neutral emotions, such as puzzlement (just by itself, with no frustration), won't any effect. (Actually, when I'm confused they sway, almost like they're looking for sun or something, but that's an exception.)

I used to be a huge extrovert. I wasn't the greatest with anger management, but I didn't throw things or anything like that. I guess I'm pretty nice; can anyone really judge themselves like that? If you asked a random acquaintance of mine to describe me in one phrase, they'd probably say "party girl". It was true. Not the bad parties, (I'd be back by eight, and I don't drink or do drugs, or go anywhere where people do), but I did go to a lot of them. I still do, but I don't enjoy them. It's almost impossible to, since I have to keep my moods steady, and it's hard for me to constantly be happy. People notice the flowers when they're just sitting in my hair, apparently just clippings from a plant twisted into my hair. What would they think if they saw those flowers wilt before their eyes, or actually reopen? If a student saw that in my school, it would take a half-hour max for everyone to know I'm a mutant. Half of them would believe that I'm an alien, or here to kill everyone. Some would believe both. I'd be ostracized at the least. Even Sam would probably leave me, but I wouldn't blame her.

How do most mutants feel about themselves? From the stuff on TV, you'd think they're proud of their mutation or something. But that can't possibly be true. Who could be proud of not being human? Sure, some mutants _look_ human, but they're not. None of them…us…are.

I've tried four times to turn myself in. Four! Every single time, I chickened out. I'd reach for the phone, but I can't press the numbers. Self-preservation can override and conscious decisions, I guess. But now I have to deal with the guilt on top of everything else. Because I know what mutants are: Inferior, freaks of nature, and dangerous monsters. Think about that last one. What if my…powers (gosh, that's such a positive word for something so horrible) increase, and I turn into a monster and…what if I kill? What if I already _am_ a monster, but I don't even realize it yet? By not reporting myself, am I betraying the race I once thought of as mine?

I've been asking myself these questions for twenty-seven days now, and I still don't know the answers. I just know I can't do this for much longer. I don't know what I am going to do, but I can't keep deceiving my friends and family; I can't keep hiding my powers. I've dyed my hair back to black, but what if I lost control of my emotions? It's not just my hair flowers that mirror my emotions. _Any_ flower, any plant, does. My hair flowers are more sensitive than other flowers, and any flower is more sensitive than general leaves or vines. (Anything covered with bark doesn't seem to be effected.) It makes hiding my power ten times harder. If my hair was the only thing, maybe I could just wear a hat and have it completely cover my hair, though my friends would think it weird. But what happens to plants around me is extremely noticeable. I can't seem to kill flowers or plants – but I wonder, if _I_ died, would I take some flowers with me? – but I can definitely make them wilt, so they look dead, and bloom.

I first discovered that when I came home from school, the same day my hair changed, July 9th. I was sitting in my mom's garden, staring into the woods. I don't have a garden myself. I guess it's sort of ironic, really. The power to make plants bloom and grow (assuming I'm in a good mood, anyway), but I barely care about them at all. In my book, trees and plants serve as homes to animals, nothing more.

Anyway, I was hoping to see a deer, or even just a woodpecker, when a sudden breeze blew my hair, not yet dyed black, into my face. Seeing the flowers attached to it shattered my shield of denial, and the full memory of the day's occurrences hit me. I began to sob. I couldn't stop, even when my flowers hurt so badly they were probably partly accountable for my tears. But I did finally stop, in shock; every single plant within ten feet of me, with the exception of the tree branches (their leaves and needles were effected, though) was drooping and brown. Even the moss – heck, even the algae covering the little pond! – looked dead. Once surprise partially replaced my fear and desperation, they started to look a bit more alive, but it wasn't until I had completely had my emotions under control that they recovered. No one's said anything, so I hope – desperately – that the whole thing went unnoticed. 

A ten foot radius sounds large, doesn't it? It did to me, then. Not anymore. Now, anything within thirty feet of me registers my moods. And I thought it might become less as I gained control over my emotions. At this rate, in eleven months from now, anything within _two-hundred and fifty feet_ of me will be effected in a year!

I have a little…ritual makes it sound like I enjoy it…procedure developed. Every morning, and whenever I go out, I look at the weather (to see how the plants will probably be looking without my influence) and think about what's been going on in my life lately and how I feel about the people I'm seeing. Then I decide what my mood will be for the day, or at least until I'm alone again, and could have an opportunity to change the flowers to less or more wilted ones, if I actually could pull them in and out. If I do a good job deciding, I won't noticeably change the plants I go near, and I'll be able to maintain my mood through the whole day, so my flowers, and other plants, don't change. So far I haven't had any incidents, but I almost wish I have. Then someone else would call the police, since I can't.

I think that's enough as far as backing up goes. As for right now – I'm sitting on my bed, all curled up. I wish I could go outside, but the further away I am from plants, the better. Most everyone has noticed the way my emotions have been so steady lately, but no one but my family or Sam has really thought anything of it. I think Sam's going to drive me crazy, though. She won't stop asking me if I'm okay, just because I didn't yell at Nickie (my sister) when she completely erased my computer disk, or something like that. It's nice to know she cares, but…I wish none of this had ever happened, I wish my hair was still naturally black, that the only flowers in it are the ones I put in…I guess I'm lucky those are my only distinguishing features, though. They say the mutant that tried to assassinate the president is completely blue. That would be horrible. No way to hide; everyone that looked at you would know…Oh, NO! I'm starting to sympathize with him…_it_. I can't do that. It's a good thing that it can be identified by sight. It'll be caught quicker. It would probably be a good thing if _I_ could be identified by sight, but I can't bring myself to let my hair grow out green. I should, for the good of everyone, but I just can't.

A knock on my door interrupted my mental diary entry. Uncurling, I quickly grabbed a magazine, checked my hair with a portable mirror I've started carrying around, and called, "Come in".

My mom opened the door and entered, followed by Dad. I glanced at my clock, surprised that he was home already; time had really flown. I caught a glimpse of my sister, two years younger than me, trying to peek in. I had no doubt the twelve-year-old would be eavesdropping.

"Kelly, your mother and I would like to talk to you about what the psychologist said," my father began.

I forced a smile. "What about it?"

"We would like you to stop holding back your emotions," Mom answered. "You never did before; what's changed?"

This wasn't heading in a good direction. "Oh, I'm probably just maturing or something. Or it could be hormones," I added as an afterthought.

Dad shook his head. "This isn't maturing, honey. Mature people show emotions, they just don't let their emotions control them. There's a huge difference between having control and hiding them."

I shrugged, hoping to avoid having to answer any difficult questions. Mom sighed, looking at me with huge sad eyes. "We want our little Cow back," she whispered, causing me to blush. When I was six, my sister had accidentally called me "cow" instead of "Kel" (we were visiting a farm, and she was staring at the cows). Don't ask me why, but the name stuck for four years. When I turned ten, I insisted against it, and I haven't been called that since.

My parents went then, leaving me to my thoughts. For the umpteenth time, I wondered what they, as anti-mutant I as was – am! – would do if they knew the truth.


	2. What Is WRONG With Her?: Sam

**Author's notes:**

Carmilla: Thank you for reviewing!

Everyone else: Review! Now! Or…Something bad happens. And if you like this, check out "Not Even Memories", my other story.

Yes, I know this is short; I think all the chapters from now on are going to be. But there'll be more of them, so don't worry. 

* * *

I don't know what's wrong with Kelly. She's been acting so weird lately. Something's wrong, but she's trying to hide it from me. Me! We've been best friends since first grade, and we always tell each other everything. Until now, anyway. I really don't know what's gotten in to her. I pretty sure she knows I know something's wring; every single time she does something strange, I ask her what's going on, but she just brushes me off. It's always, "Nothing's wrong, Sam, why are you all hyper-sensitive?" or "You're imagining things, Sammie." She knows I hate to be called Sammie. It's even worse than "Samantha". It's not that I'm a tomboy; I just hate the name, and "Sam" is the only variation of it I can stand. 

But back to Kelly. I don't remember exactly, but I'm pretty sure she started acting funny around the time when she changed her hair. I don't see why she likes her new style, really. One day she just came to school with green hair with flowers in it. I inspect her hair when she doesn't know I'm looking. She has eleven flowers in hair that seems to have thickened considerably – I wonder what she put in it? She probably wouldn't tell me if I asked, though; for some reason, she's really sensitive of her hair in particular. The flowers in it are incredible, really. I looked them up: they're called "passion flowers". They're so intricate, with layer upon layer of petals and stems. Nearly all of them are colored, but with varying shades of the primary color. She wears eleven, always the exact same colors and in the exact same place. (I can't imagine where she gets them every single day, and that similar. She must replace them daily, because they're usually not wilted much at all, if any.)

Her flowers are all different colors: Deep purple, lavender, royal blue, sky blue, bright orange, bright green, maroon, rose pink, bright yellow, a bright blue-green color, and white. (Those are just the main colors in each flower, of course; the deep purple has some lavender in it, for example.) Until she started wearing them, I didn't believe a flower could come in that many colors. And this sounds crazy, but I'm not sure if I do believe it, even now. I can't find anything on the internet, but I've never heard of a flower coming in all those colors.

The deep purple flower is on her top right side of her head, the place most people put flowers in their hair. The rest of them are just scattered all over. One is actually on the top of her head; another must have to be superglued to nearly the very ends of her hair. All of the others are all over the rest of her hair, with practically no order. The only thing their places have in common is that they all point out, and Kelly wears them so they're all on the top, as opposed to being covered in hair.

I sighed and began to pedal. Kelly and I usually, though not always, bike to school together, but if I wait any longer outside her house I'm going to be late. If she was coming, she would have come out by now, and if she's not I don't want to bug her. She wouldn't tell me if anything was wrong, if that's why she's not here, so I wouldn't be of any help if I did go in. I don't know what to do. I don't think there is actually anything I _can_ do. Her parents already know something's wrong; I've seen the way they look at her, all sad and worried. I wish I could help, somehow.

I arrived at school without seeing her (not that I was expecting to). We wouldn't normally see each other until our second class, so I had until then to wonder if Kelly was even here, and regret my decision to leave without finding out what was going on. I wouldn't have normally left if I thought anything might be the matter, but I guess I'm tired of being rejected.

As it turned out, she was at school; a note in my locker quickly explained that her whole family had had problems getting ready to leave, and they were all half-an-hour late to their respective schools and work places. She didn't give any more detail, though, and she somehow managed to write it without any complaining or other bias. I wasn't surprised; this is the way she's been acting lately.

During classes, when the teacher wasn't looking, and over lunch break, we chatted about nothing. She seemed a little hurt, which made me feel worse for not finding out what the deal was this morning. At least, I can't think of any other way I could have hurt her.

I finally exploded when we were alone in the bathroom.

"What's wrong with you?" I yelled, with no warning. She'd been acting particularly unemotional, and I was fed up. "You've been acting so out of it lately! You – you're a different person! The Kelly I know would never – never try to be so far away from me! Ever since you changed your hair, you've been acting like a robot!"

I don't know what came over me, but I reached out and grabbed that deep purple flower, the one in the "traditional" place to put a flower in hair. I was surprised by how well it was attached – _did_ she really use superglue? – but I was able to pull it out, of course. I was even more surprised by her reaction. She screamed, grabbing her hair. All the other flowers in her hair actually wilted, turning brown and shriveling up. I just gaped at her for a second, absorbing what had happened. When it finally struck me that I had somehow hurt her, I moved toward her, apologizing.

"Oh my gosh, Kelly, are you okay? I'm so sorry! What happened?"

She just shook her head, crying. Before I could do anything, she ran out of the bathroom. Without thinking, I dropped the flower and tried to follow her, but she's always been a faster sprinter than me, and I lost her quickly. The bell rang, and I decided to go to class and hope she was there.

When she didn't show up for the class, where I was waiting by the door, I checked both of our lockers and the library with no luck. I tried calling her home, but I got her message machine. She didn't pick up when I started talking.

So there were two places she could be: Her home, and she was just not answering the phone, or The Park. I went out to get my bike, noticing hers was gone. I rode to her house, but no one was there. (And I didn't just knock on the door; I looked in all the windows and the backyard.) Trying not to think about the trouble I was going to get into for skipping school, I rode as fast as I could to The Park.


	3. A Bud: Kelly

**Author's notes:**

I'm so sorry this took so long! But I'm really typing things up quickly lately, so hopefully (that seems to be the word I use most in my notes) the next chapters will be typed up shortly as well.

Huntress: Thanks! And you have to wait and see if she'll get to Xavier's. (cough)yes(cough)

* * *

I stared into the forest moodily. Moodily. The last thing I need right now is emotions. A fawn bounded out of his hiding place, took one look at me, and ran off. I know that he would have reacted the same way to any unfamiliar thing, but I couldn't help being hurt anyway. I was dimly aware of the tears dripping off my face. I was no longer trying to hide my emotions. My remaining flowers hurt horribly, but it was worth it. I am so tired of hiding my emotions. And not just hiding them – not _feeling _them, even.

The world suddenly swayed. Gasping, I grabbed a low branch in an attempt to right everything. I felt faint and dizzy, on the verge of swooning. I stumbled, trying to stand upright, unsure if there was something wrong with me or if this was a huge earthquake or something. No, something was definitely wrong with me. An earthquake wouldn't make anyone, even a mutant, feel so…drained. Falling from the shadow I had been in into a sun patch, I was temporarily blinded by the brightness as I looked straight at the sun.

I lay there for a while; I don't know how long exactly. After a short amount of time the world began to stop spinning, much to my relief. When everything was completely still and I was no longer feeling nauseous and faint I realized there was a very odd sensation on my head, where my purple flower had been. I now realized it had been going on since my dizzy spell, I just hadn't noticed it. It was almost an itchy feeling and a little tingly, but somehow I didn't feel the need to scratch it, even thought it was definitely similar to a normal itch.

Apprehensive, (the last time something strange had happened to my head, it hadn't exactly turned out well), I reached up to touch that spot. Completely shocked, I felt a little hard thing growing from the same spot on the hair-vine that had been attached to my "late" flower. The hard thing grew until I realized it was actually a bud. Even more surprising was that I could actually feel it, just like I could my "normal" flowers. I felt the bud unfurl and exhaled slowly, realizing I'd been holding my breath. As far as I could tell, it was another flower, just like the last one.

I couldn't believe it. I could regrow my flowers? Maybe…even other parts? I wasn't about to test it, but the idea intrigued me.

Scrubbing off tears (I had stopped crying when that faint spell came over me), I heard someone, probably an idiot college boy, yell, causing me to scowl. Yes, The Park – that's not its real name, but it's what everyone calls it – is a public protected forest, true, but it's a _forest_, a wild place for, well, wildlife. Not obnoxious humans.

"Kelly!" My head shot up as I heard Sam shout my name. I guess I should have expected her to find me, as this is my little hangout area. It's just a tree, but it's a gorgeous pine that's just perfect for sitting under and thinking, reading, or just about anything.

Sam skidded to a stop on her bike. I gave her a disapproving look. The bike trail didn't come this far, so we usually hid our bikes under a bush so we wouldn't have to bring our bikes through undergrowth, hurting The Park in the process. How Sam had managed to actually ride her bike this far off track, I have no idea.

"Look, Kelly, I'm really sorry about your flower, okay? It was really dumb of me." Her jaw dropped when she saw my new flower. "Gosh, where do you get all those things?" she asked incredulously.

I opened my mouth to say something, I'm not sure what, but a man's scream interrupted me. Several people suddenly crashed into view, rolling out of a thick clump of bushes. I couldn't make anything out except that they were all fighting.

Sam and I gaped at them for a second. Then an actual bullet clipped my arm and I yelped. "Kelly, are you okay?" Sam asked, having seen the bullet. "You're bleeding!" I looked down; it was true.

"Come on," I gasped. Sam yelled that she would catch up to me, so I ran to where my bike was hidden. In my panic it took me several tries before I was able to pull it out from under a bush. I was mounting it on the trail as Sam rode up. We took off.

* * *

A/N: I don't really have any plans to do anything along the lines of Kelly being able to regenerate other body parts, in case anyone's wondering, but I just thought I'd throw that line in. Please review!


	4. Captain Banori: Sam

**Author's notes:**

See, this was pretty quick, wasn't it?

Thanks to my two reviewers! Oh, and I do have a hazy, but still defined, plot, Carmilla.

* * *

The two of us know The Park like…well, much better than our hands, or whatever that saying is. At any rate, we could have navigated The Park in our sleep, literally. It took us just three minutes to get out into a populated area, where anyone chasing us wouldn't be able to attack without having dozens of witnesses, but I swear it felt like hours. We probably weren't really in any intentional danger, but I couldn't stop thinking about what could happen if another stray bullet hit one of us. And anyway, who knows what someone psycho enough to brawl in public would do?

We stopped next to a bench, which we collapsed on. When our heart rates began to lower we looked at Kelly's arm. It was just grazed, so although she was bleeding and it could become infected, she didn't have a hole in her arm, which was a relief. I ended up just tying my sweatshirt around it.

Kelly was watching me, I quickly realized. I pretended not to notice, but it was pretty obvious she had a mental debate going full-swing inside her head. Finally, after no less than five minutes of both of us pretending to stare at a tree, but really watching each other out of the corner of our eyes, she spoke.

"Sam…There's something you should know. I twisted to look at her, but she was still staring fixedly at that tree, not looking at me. "I'm a mutant."

I swear the world stopped when she said that. It started again a second later, but it definitely had stopped. "Wh-what do you mean?" I stammered in disbelief. She had to be joking, but…Her voice wasn't sad, or even faintly remorseful. It was completely flat and emotionless, and her face was smooth. If this was a bad joke, she'd be as realistic as possible.

"I am a mutant," she repeated. "I'm going to leave now, but I thought I should tell you."

"You're leaving?" I asked, grasping on to the most believable thing. Kelly – a mutant? I didn't know what to do. All my life I've been anti-mutant, as has Kelly.

"Yes," she whispered. "Right now. I'm not sure where I'm going to go, but I can't keep doing this."

"This?"

"Hiding what I am."

"Won't you still have to hide?" I asked, somehow managing to have a semi-normal conversation at a time like this. "How will that help?"

"Maybe it won't. But if I do slip, I won't have to see people I care about reject me."

"I'll go with you." The words were out of my mouth before I even realized it, but I didn't regret them. I guess it's true that friendship can conquer anything. Or is that love? I doesn't matter; I do love her, as a friend.

She stopped staring at the tree and looked at me in disbelief. "What?"

"I'm going with you." My voice wavered slightly, but the tone was firm.

Kelly still looked as though she didn't believe me, but then she suddenly began to cry and hugged me. I was a bit surprised, to say the least, but I hugged her back. My eyes widened as I realized the flowers in her hair were expanding to full bloom, the colors becoming brighter as I watched. And…yes, the grass was getting greener and growing, as was every other living thing around us. Unnerved, my resolve weakened momentarily, but I shoved my doubts down. She _had_ said she was a mutant, after all. And I wasn't leaving her, no matter what I thought of mutants in general.

"Are you sure?" Kelly abruptly asked, pulling away. "I won't blame you if you change your mind. I know you're anti-mutant."

I shrugged, trying to look braver than I felt. "I'll get over it. But you were anti-mutant before, so how do you feel now?"

Kelly closed her eyes and the flowers' colors turned a little less vivid. "I…I'm still anti-mutant," she whispered. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

Before I could say something (though I don't know what I would have said), a woman stepped out in front of the bench we were sitting on. She would have looked in her thirties, but her face was hard and weathered, with several deep lines, making her look at least a decade older. Dark brown hair streaked with premature grey was cut very short, and she definitely wasn't the feminine type.

"I can help you with that," she said, looking at Kelly and ignoring me. We both stared at her blankly.

"Help me with what?" Kelly asked.

The woman smiled slightly, but it didn't get anywhere near her eyes. "May I sit?" She didn't wait for an answer before settling on the bench end closest to Kelly, as we were in the middle. She was incredibly graceful, something I wouldn't have guessed by looking at her, but not in a dancer-twirling-her-skirt way.

"Let me review what I know about you, just from sitting over there while you two talked." She gestured vaguely to a spot a couple feet away. "Please correct me if I get anything wrong. You are a mutant. Your power has to do with the flowers in your hair, which are…not natural at all, but a part of you. And you are anti-mutant despite your mutation."

We were both outright gaping at her. Kelly had scooted back against me as the woman spoke, so we were both now on the other end of the bench. I wasn't sure what we should do, but Kelly whispered, "Yes."

Boring holes into my friend with her eyes, the woman began to change our lives. "My name is Captain Banori. I am a leader of one of the ten squads of an organization called SEM, which stands for Saving Earth from Mutants. As for you…Technically, you are a mutant, so you cannot be human. But you are as human as mutants can be, and I would like to give you a place on my squad."

Our jaws dropped even further, if that was possible. I don't know what Kelly was thinking, but I couldn't believe the nerve of this woman. The way she pronounced Kelly "almost human" was the most infuriating thing I'd ever heard. My world was being turned upside-down, and I didn't know what I thought of most mutants, but Kelly was as much human as anyone.

"But-but I'm a mutant!" Kelly stammered. "You should be…attacking me, or something!"

"It is worth letting one mutant live if she would help us against others. And if you joined my squad, we would protect you. You'll never be equal to a human, you know that, so you won't be treated equally. But you could help humans fight other mutants."

I knew before Kelly opened her mouth that she would agree. Banori's argument was exactly what Kelly believed in, and I partially believed in, after all. At least…Something about mutants fighting each other seemed wrong. I mean, on the news you hear things about groups of mutants, and some of them fight, but none are actually…well, betraying their race, fighting for humans against mutants. Minorities band together with a common goal: To be considered equal, and occasionally above equal, but both those are similar. They may disagree about how to reach that goal, and one group might even be after one goal, and another the other, but they always band together. But if this was what Kelly wanted, I wasn't going to try to stop her.

"Okay," Kelly whispered. "Yes. Yes, I'll help you."

"Good," Banori replied. "You will address me as Captain Banori. You will follow _anyone_'s orders, but higher ranking officer's orders overwrite common soldiers', of course. You will stay with my squad and assist with our operations." Banori – I just couldn't think of her as Captain Banori – stood. "Come."

She suddenly looked at me for the first time. "Do you trust her not to say anything about this?" she asked, still addressing Kelly.

Kelly gasped. "Oh, but she's coming with me! I mean…" She faltered under Banori's steady gaze. "She has to, please. She's my best friend."

Banori hesitated a moment. "You're not a mutant?" she asked me. "I shook my head. "Very well. But she will not be part of the squad, so as a non-SEM human, she won't be treated much better than a SEM mutant – in other words, you." She was talking to Kelly again.

Kelly looked at me questioningly. I shrugged. "Okay, I guess." I still wasn't sure I agree with this, but I was staying with her, period. I guess it's odd, really: I've always been pretty anti-mutant, though not as much a fanatic as Kelly was, and still seems, to be, but now I'm will to do anything to stay with and help my mutant friend. But besides the fact that Kelly and are I are extremely good friends, I don't think I'm really as anti-mutant as I've always thought myself as. I mean, I _was_ anti-mutant, but now that Kelly's a mutant my views are changing. I wonder if I'll eventually be pro-mutant. Now that's a scary thought.

But I was missing what was going on. "Come," ordered Banori again. "And the same rules apply to you," she added, looking at me again. I nodded, maybe a bit shortly. Sheesh, she thought we were desperate indeed if we would follow her little "you're not equal" rules and still want to stay with her. Sad thing was, it would appear she was correct.

Not equal…My view hadn't changed; I was still sure that Kelly was equal to me and any other human. So are mutants generally human, capable of feelings and compassion, or is Kelly the exception? I have no idea. I can't believe I'm thinking this, but I'd actually like to meet more mutants, just to see what they're like.

Kelly and I followed Banori – I really should try to think of her as Captain Banori now, I suppose – back the way we had ridden in panic. As we walked she interrogated us about all aspects of our lives, and by the time we entered a small clearing, she knew more about Kelly's past month than I had.


End file.
